


Quid Pro Quo

by UnofficiallyLoki



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Childhood Trauma, Consensual Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Self-Insert, Shameless Smut, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-06 18:10:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15891318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnofficiallyLoki/pseuds/UnofficiallyLoki
Summary: You're part of the world's oldest profession. But once the Avengers start taking an interest in your business, your job becomes far more complicated than you ever expected. Now you're in the business of trading secrets for salvation in a risky game of quid pro quo with everyone's favorite billionaire, playboy philanthropist.





	1. Espionage

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I've written in a very, very long time, and my first fic ever in the Marvel fandom. I hope its enjoyable. Essentially, I just wanted an excuse to fuck the characters I found attractive in the MCU, but then before I knew it I started coming up with a plot. This is this the result. I'm simultaneously sorry and not. Stay tuned for more chapters added as I feel inspired. Eventually, all of the tags will become relevant, and some more may even be added. 
> 
> XoXo - U.L.

_Espionage, n. - the practice of spying or using spies to obtain valuable political or military information._

You see the word appear as Tony Stark quickly scrawls it on your hiring form. You supposed it was a part of your new official job description, since "sneaky whore" just wouldn't cut it. 

You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself, earning a suspicious glance from Mr. Stark who was now looking up from your paperwork, brow raised. You say nothing, merely offering him a sly smile in return. He sighs almost inaudibly before returning to writing. 

You weren't used to the business politics of your new employer just yet, not to mention your innate disdain for bureaucratic formalities. Where you came from, you called a spade a spade, and a whore a whore. 

You'd been in the business too long to be ashamed of it, though sometimes you enjoyed the pay raise that often came with using words like "escort" or "specialty masseuse" instead. 

"Just about finished here," Stark said plainly, bringing your attention back from your self-amusing train of thought. Suddenly, you were back to hearing the sound of pen scratching paper in an otherwise quiet office. The pace of his writing quickened as he began to approach the bottom of the form. Just a few more details. 

"Oh uh..." He looks up at you again. You can see his pupils narrow and shake slightly. His mind was racing as he was no doubt trying to find the right words for his thoughts. "You've uh...you've been 'tested', right? Recently? By our people?"

"Yes." You answer bluntly, trying not to smile. "I believe your lab assistants were entering my results in your database as I was leaving."

"Good, I'm guessing we're all clear?"

Before you could even answer he was searching the system himself. A few touches to his desk caused a holographic screen to appear in front of him. He scrolled quickly and purposefully, searching your health records until he found the answer he was looking for. Small red text flashed the word "negative."

"...Yes." You finally answer, now clearly amused thanks to the unnecessary nature of the question. 

"Good." He closes the screen and looks back down, moving to sign his name at the bottom of the forms. "Not much of a talker are you?"

"If I was, I wouldn't be very good at my job now would I?"

He finishes his signature with an unsurprising flourish before looking up at you again, this time with a smirk. "Touché.”

 


	2. A Deal's a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is a story all about how your life got flip-turned upside-down. I'd like a to take a minute just sit right there and I'll tell you all about how past trauma lead to a life of turning tricks.
> 
> TW: References to past trauma and abuse. Implied sexual abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the first chapter was so short but I liked Stark's words as a stopping point. Anyway, I'm taking some inspiration from the show Misfits, with some modifications that will be revealed later on. The next chapter should be when the smut starts. Can you guess with whom? 
> 
> XoXo - U.L.

The deal had been simple enough. A classic quid pro quo arrangement between you and Mr. Stark.

For years you'd been operating in the underbelly of New York. In that time you'd established a very robust and shall we say...colorful clientele, many of whom were returning customers. To put it simply, you knew things and Stark, and by extension, the Avengers wanted to know things too. 

How they'd managed to find you was another story. For years you'd prided yourself on staying out of the watchful eye of the law. It all boiled down to one thing: priorities. 

With the sudden increase in...what did they call them? Oh yeah, "enhanced individuals," the cops had bigger fish to fy. Sex work was no longer on the radar, even for some of your more...prolific clients. Cops wanted to know what they were plotting, not who they were fucking, which meant that business was steady and interferences were minimal. That is, until recently. 

The sheer chaos which had erupted from the heavens like a violent reckoning lead by a mad, self-proclaimed god had left a lasting impact. In the wake of Loki's mass destruction and the collateral damage which ensued courtesy of Earth's Mightiest Heroes, New York's criminal underworld grew and thrived. Somewhere along the line, SHIELD had started keeping tabs on where certain criminals were coming and going, making your place of work an obvious target for surveillance. Once SHIELD fell, the Avengers took over. There was another storm brewing, and they needed all the intel they could get. 

At first, you had said "no." It was a decision which hardly needed any deliberation. After all, for better or worse this was your livelihood. You made money for two reasons: one, obviously, you provide pleasure. Yours was the oldest profession in history, and many men were willing to pay a good amount for the company of someone beautiful for a short while. The second reason was a little less obvious but no less important: you kept secrets. You were damn good at it too. You knew when to keep your mouth shut, and it was usually when that particular orifice wasn't otherwise occupied. 

So when a blonde woman by the name of Natalie came wandering into your place of work asking for information, you had every intention of telling her to go fuck herself. Or perhaps more politely, to leave. That is until she said that she could make things worth your while. 

Suddenly, your ears were open. You made tea while she seated herself in your parlor. After some obligatory small talk, you served tea and sat across from her, cup and saucer in hand, to hear what she had to say. That's when negotiations began. 

A week later you found yourself in a Stark lab. You couldn't help but smirk a little at the surprised expression on the lab assistants face when she turned your arm over to take blood and found that it was clean. No track marks. 

Originally, you had been offered a classic sum of hush money. You were no stranger to the exchange of money for silence, but you wanted something better, something that would have a lasting, positive impact on your life. You wanted to be free. 

\---

The day you turned thirteen was the day your life changed forever. It was like taking a nosedive into a quarry. Suddenly, people around you began to act differently. You noticed that men who got close to you began to look at you with different intentions. The intensity of their stares became something you had to get used to, but for the first few years it was terrifying. However, that was nothing compared to what usually followed. You learned early on that your body could be dangerous. Women are often told that they are irresistible as an excuse for the actions of men who should and do know better. But you knew something was different. The first time someone touched your bare shoulder it was like a switch was flipped. All semblance of humanity was quickly stripped of them, replaced by a primal hunger that seized you and threatened to tear you apart like a wild animal. In the years since you'd only learned ways to cope. Even the illusion of control was precious to you. That's why you ended up running your own business. If your body was going to be a fucking curse the least it could do was earn you a living. 

At first glance, you hardly fit the typical stereotype of what a prostitute looked like. You made it a point to stay mostly covered up, to a reasonable extent. Your go-to was something with long sleeves and either pants, stockings, or boots that covered most if not all of your legs. You were a "classy whore" as some of your clients liked to put it. Not only did it set you apart from the competition, but it also meant you could usually get away with charging a bit more. 

Explaining your situation proved to be, unsurprisingly, difficult. You could count on one hand the total number of times you had tried to talk about your "condition" with someone else. The first time you were still in school, sitting across from a counselor who accused you of lying and trying to seduce everyone from your peers to your teachers, for reasons varying from social to academic advantage. The second time you tried to say something, you found yourself placed under psychiatric evaluation for assumed mental delusions. Unfortunately, diagnoses of generalized anxiety and depression proved to be inconclusive. 

The third time you tried to say something, you were thrown against a wall by a jealous boyfriend demanding to know why you were such an ungrateful slut. Threats often lead to actions taken to reclaim control of something you never had any control over to begin with. The fourth time you didn't want to say anything at all, but the doctor examining your broken clavicle knew that you hadn't fallen down the stairs. The pity in her eyes made you break down and loathe her all at once. Begrudgingly, you tried to confess your struggles between hiccups and dry heaves, punctuated by heavy sobs. For the first time, it felt as though you were heard. Unfortunately, there wasn't much she could do. Local clinics had limited resources at their disposal, and your affliction couldn't be determined by a standard series of blood tests and biometrics. 

The fifth time was now, and it was the first time you actually felt like you had a fighting chance. Surely Tony Stark, with all his wealth, influence, and state-of-the-art technology at his disposal, could be of some help, right? Right? 

This was your last chance. 


	3. A Game of Birds and Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's your first day back on the job and it seems like business as usual. Or is it? A surprise guest means that your new job as a double-agent may be starting sooner than you expected.

Your first day back at your job was unusually exciting. For once, you actually felt like your life had some meaning. Sex could be fun from time-to-time, sure, and the high-stakes business activities of some of your clientele meant that it usually provided a reasonable living. But it was hardly a purpose. You never realized that your life had been somewhat lacking one until now.

Your official assignment from the Avengers was fairly straight-forward for the time being: keep your eyes and ears open for anything out of the ordinary. Of course, considering your whole line of work fit that description pretty well, that point was further clarified by Stark.

_"Seeing as you regularly deal with suspicious persons engaging in...shall we say ‘illicit’ activities, we mean keep an eye open for anything real weird, even by your standards. And please, use discretion. I don't want to know  what kind of kinky shit these guys are into."_

You couldn't help but snicker. The temptation to sneak some more provocative details into your reports was strong, but considering how badly you needed Stark's help, you ultimately decided against it. _For now_.

And that was it. In addition to returning to business as usual, you were tasked with creating a daily log, noting anything noteworthy and omitting anything that might offend Stark's surprisingly delicate sensibilities.

You were in your personal quarters putting on some makeup when you heard the front door open and close; the accompanying chime signaling the entrance of a new customer. Sure it was cliché, but it worked. The only thing is, you didn’t remember having a client booked for this time. And frankly, walk-ins weren't exactly your thing. You preferred to screen your clients beforehand to maintain some level of safety and control over your business. You checked your appointment book just to be sure. _Suspicions confirmed_. Your first client wasn't due for another hour at least, and considering how busy _their_ schedules were it was highly unlikely that they'd show up so early. You couldn’t explain why, but the blood in your veins thrummed with a feeling akin to excitement. Something was definitely different. Quickly, you put your lipstick down and got up from your dressing table, draping yourself in a long black robe before heading downstairs to the parlor.

You had been briefed on some persons of interest by Stark and the blonde woman who insisted you call her “Natalie.” Her new alias wasn’t exactly creative but perhaps something could be said for the notion of “hiding in plain sight,” especially since it seemed to be working for her. As you continued downstairs at a reasonable pace, you began to run through the list of names in your mind, trying to guess who might be waiting for you below.

Then again, maybe you were overthinking it. Surely your new mission wouldn't start so soon, right?

_Right?_

Nevertheless, once you were finally able to see who had entered your workplace, you felt a sudden chill up your spine as a wave of familiarity washed over you. The man who was now standing in the doorway, pretending to examine a piece of artwork on one of the adjacent walls, was someone you had definitely seen before. You hesitated a moment as you tried to remember his name.

To someone wholly unfamiliar with current events, he may have gone completely unnoticed. Nothing about him stood out as particularly intimidating. That is, until he had a reason to be. Thankfully, all clients were vetted for weapons and other dangerous materials at the door. You spared no expense when it came to security. Personnel was always nearby just in case, and you learned a long time ago that there was no such thing as being _too careful_. That being said, he was a fairly unassuming man, about average height, wearing clothes that would befit anyone who did most of their work outdoors. The only thing that seemed strange was the fact that he appeared to be dressed very warmly for early September. Long cargo pants, boots, and a thick, leather fur-trimmed coat seemed somewhat out of place considering that it had been in the low 80s for the past month or so. But then again, there's definitely a temperature change in high altitudes. Everything must be much cooler once you're high in the air.

“Well hello there, Mr...,” you greeted, stifling all of your nervous excitement beneath a polite smile. You knew how to keep a good poker face in almost any situation; a skill that took years to master. But it's definitely paid off.

He looked up suddenly with a surprised expression, having been caught off guard by your presence entirely. You also had a habit of being able to get and out of places quietly and undetected. His surprise, however, quickly turned into amusement, a crooked smirk playing across his lips. "Hey there. Toomes," he replied, answering your unspoken question. He stepped away from the art piece he had been admiring since you entered the room: a custom recreation of Monet's _Olympia_ with more vivid red and purple hues. You eyed him carefully as he stepped towards you.

"But please, call me Adrian. I’m assuming you’re uh...the proprietor of this here uh...”

“Whorehouse?” You finished bluntly, your smile turning into a playful smirk. He looked at you in disbelief, blinking for a moment, before laughing.

“Not one to mince words, are ya?”

“I’ve always been partial to a more direct approach.”

_Maybe this will be fun._

“Well, got to love an honest woman,” he replied, unzipping his jacket. It was certainly much warmer here in your parlor than it was above the clouds. You liked to keep things cozy. As he looked for a place to put it, you took the opportunity to get a little closer, taking the jacket from him. He looked up at you in mild surprise but said nothing as you neatly folded it for him.

“People in my line of work seldom get to be called honest.” You turned to put his coat behind the front desk.

“Well honesty comes in many forms." You could hear his voice following you. "Just like it’s opposite.” He added. His pitch had changed, deepened. There was a new, gravelly tenor. As you bent over to put the jacket away you could feel his eyes on you, sending a shiver down your spine. The ambient red lighting of the room did nothing to dim those icy blues. And you couldn't deny that they were having an effect on you, though you weren't entirely sure why.

Then again, you'd be lying if you said you didn't have a slight thing for danger. Especially if it came in the form of a man in leather.

“Hmm, very true," you replied, rising and straightening yourself after having tucked the jacket away. Your gaze met his, and the growing intensity there was unmistakable. "But correct me if I’m wrong, I don’t think you came here to discuss virtues.”

“And she’s smart too!” He said with a chuckle. Yes, there was definitely something different. You could feel him getting closer. You hated to admit it, but something about the deepness of his voice was doing something to you, even if he sounded like a condescending asshole. He leaned against the desk beside you, crossing his arms over his chest. He made no attempts to disguise the fact that he was eyeing you up and down. And for some reason you weren't entirely sure of, you let your hands fall to your hips to give him a better look. It was as if you both had embarked upon a new game. Perhaps one of predator and prey. How befitting of a vulture. But then again, who was to say who was the predator and who was prey.

That being said, all games had to be negotiated. As was any form of disrespect. “Condescension will get you nowhere, darling,” you said with a smirk.

“My apologies, miss. I meant no disrespect. Just got carried away.” He paused for a moment, clearly trying to find the right words to say. "So uh... how do we begin our business?"

How adorably proper.

"Well, I don't usually do walk-ins. Safety reasons. I'm sure you understand." His smirk faded as he lifted from your desk, almost as if immediately preparing to leave. You gave him credit where it was due, he certainly knew how to take a hint.

"However, for you, I might make an exception. Let's start with a conversation," you said reassuringly. The relief on his face was almost endearing. You gestured to the small seating area. "After you."

He nodded, his smile returning. He crossed the room, seating himself comfortably on one of the plush velvet armchairs. You sat across from him, legs crossed in an attempt to maintain some semblance of professional dignity.

"Your reputation precedes you..." he began. He was eyeing you once again, this time drawn to your stocking-clad legs which had been revealed through he parted robe.

"As does yours, Adrian." Suddenly, his gaze met yours at the mention of his name. A playful smirk once again played across his lips.

"So, how did you find out about me?" you asked. You couldn't help but be curious, especially considering the mysterious circumstances of his arrival.

"A little birdie told me." He answered with a chuckle, taking an opportunity to take in the room around him. "Word travels fast in the big house. You've got some clients in there."

"Doesn't surprise me." You smiled. "And how did you manage to get in? You may have noticed security is tight around here. Usually, I get notified if someone off the books comes around to visit."

"Dunno. The big guys outside screened me and let me in." He shrugged. "Got patted down pretty good beforehand, though. Maybe I should've charged them."

You laughed, but inside your mind was reeling. You suspected some sort of interference from Stark or the Avengers. Frankly, while you may have consented to help them out, their vetting of your clients was not part of the agreed-upon terms, especially if they weren't going to notify you beforehand. Looks like you were going to have to clarify to them how you ran your business. _Immediately_.

But first, you had other matters to take care of. In any other circumstance, you would be quick to turn away someone who showed up unannounced and unapproved. But something about this man intrigued you. You couldn't deny that you felt some sort of magnetic energy, which left you both terrified and enthralled. At the very least you wanted to know _what_ brought him here. Aside from the obvious.

You knew better than to assume anyone's desires were straightforward. In your experience, sex was never simple. Every person that walked through your doors had their own specific wants, needs, and fantasies. Everyone was a book waiting to be opened, with pages upon pages filled with deep, dark, and dirty secrets. And for some inexplicable reason, you wanted to know his.

"So, what are you looking for? And please, be specific." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the surprise character introduction here. In all honesty, this is what motivated me to start writing this fic in the first place. I really, really like the Vulture, and the lack of Vulture fic out there was deeply saddening. So, I hope you enjoyed this first foray into smut. Stay tuned for further chapters introducing more characters and thickening the plot.


End file.
